


looking down on these bright blue city lights (we’re here to stay)

by bellamythology (onemanbellarmy)



Series: i will pull the stars down to where you are [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, blake siblings fight + make up, with clarke mediating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 21:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5431103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemanbellarmy/pseuds/bellamythology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes to a Blake sibling fight, even Clarke is at a bit of a loss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	looking down on these bright blue city lights (we’re here to stay)

**Author's Note:**

> Erm, yeah, it's been a while. But since the trailer left me in a pit of misery, I really needed to write a Blake siblings reconciliation pretty much immediately. Because who can study for the APUSH final when Bellamy and Octavia are fighting? Not me, that's for sure. (Two more days of finals, then I can write holiday fluff instead of essays.) Title from "King and Lionheart" by Of Monsters and Men.

Something heavy slammed down onto the counter. Porcelain shattering against the wooden kitchen floor. Thumps that sounded suspiciously like fist against wall. Shouts: “I didn’t mean it like that and you know it!” “Oh yes you did! Don’t even try to deny it!”

In short, it was another Blake siblings fight that Clarke had walked in on. But they’d abruptly fallen silent at the sound of the door closing behind her, so she couldn’t just leave now. (Or, well, she could — and she was most definitely tempted — but they’d been doing this ridiculously frequently of late, and she was sick of not being able to find a spot of peace and quiet in her own home.)

“What now?” she demanded, warily rounding the corner into the kitchen. Exasperation warred with genuine concern as, utterly unsurprised, she beheld her two best friends facing off across the room.

“Nothing,” snarled Octavia, who was leaning against a new dent in the wall, arms folded, refusing to make eye contact with anyone else.

Bellamy shot his sister a glare and Clarke a furiously helpless glance, then resumed slamming cutlery into the kitchen drawer.

Trying to keep her cool — the last thing they needed was the addition of a third enraged party — Clarke blew out a breath, hard. “Octavia, why don’t you head over to Monty and Jasper’s place.” It wasn’t a question.

Abruptly shoving away from the wall, the younger Blake left without so much as a backwards glance or acknowledgment of the request.

“And _you_ —” Clarke started, but Bellamy cut her off.

“I can’t right now, okay? I already know I’m an asshole; I don’t need you to say it.”

“Well, you’re not the one punching walls and throwing books.”

He looked affronted, and Clarke counted it as an improvement over rage. “I would never!”

“Exactly. So how about you take a breath and we figure out what happened this time?”

With slightly muted pique, Bellamy jerked a hand through his hair. It was stuck to his head with sweat, Clarke noticed, and she tried to keep her mind off how gorgeously _alpha male_ he looked when he was so riled up.  “I don’t _know_ what she’s pissed about now.”

“ _Bellamy_. Look, I haven’t seen the two of you fight so hard since…” She paused, honestly uncertain.

He scoffed, bitterly amused. “Atom?”

Deciding to pick her battles, Clarke shrugged.  “Or, instead of talking, if you’d rather, we could —” She trailed off as he closed his eyes, dropping his head to his folded arms on the kitchen counter.

“Hey.” She crossed the room to stand next to him when he didn’t look up. “Help me out, Bell, because I really don’t know anymore. What do I do when both of you get like this?”

Face still buried against the tense muscles of his arms — _really, Clarke? Your best friend is upset and you’re checking out his arms?_ — he made a muffled noise that she could not decipher.

“What?” she asked, tone slightly more sympathetic.

Bellamy lifted his head slightly, just enough to pin her with a red-eyed pout. “I don’t know either.”

“Hey,” Clarke repeated soothingly, twining her arms around his waist from behind. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

He choked out a laugh. “I hope so.”

* * *

 

_what was that?_

_my dickbag brother has separation anxiety_

_just bc hes going back to college in a few weeks?_

_yeah. that & bc he thinks we dont spend enough time together anymore_

_…_

_ill talk to him_

_thanks clarke_

_doesnt mean ur off the hook u know_

_i know_

* * *

 

“Oh my God, I do not have separation anxiety.”

“Figured you’d say that.” The corner of Clarke’s mouth quirked up in a knowing grin. “I would say you can keep telling yourself that, but you know you’re leaving in less than a month, and it would be easier to sort this out before you fly back across the country.”

“Knew that decision would come back to bite me in the ass.”

“It’s good for both of you,” Clarke reminded him, bumping his shoulder lightly with hers. (Well, it was more like her shoulder and his arm. Fucking height differences.) He automatically slipped his fingers between hers. “You two are going to be okay, you always are.”

He frowned, averting his gaze.

Clarke’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”

“She would not shut up, okay, about how she was _grown up now_ and how she _didn’t need my micromanaging and overbearing control_ , and —”

“What — did — you — say?”

Sighing, Bellamy closed his eyes and lifted his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I said that my life ended the day she was born.”

“Oh, _Bellamy._ ”

“I know,” he whispered, eyes still squeezed shut. “But she just — you know Octavia, she’s so —”

“What did _she_ say?”

“‘You always want to play the big brother? Joke’s —’”

“‘—on me. You’re just a selfish dick,’” finished a voice from the doorway. Both Bellamy and Clarke glanced up sharply to see Octavia nervously toying with the bow at the end of her braid. “You know I didn’t mean it, right?”

“I didn’t either,” Bellamy said quickly, eyes hopeful as they blinked at her, as if unsure whether she was really standing there, ready to make amends.

Octavia leaned her head against the doorframe. “God, I can’t even stay mad at you. Look at that _face,_ Clarke.”

“Like kicking a puppy,” Clarke agreed.

“Hey,” Bellamy protested mildly.

Clarke ruffled his hair, letting go of his hand. “I’ll give you two a minute.”

 “We do better with you mediating,” Bellamy protested, even as Octavia said, “Actually, I think we’re good.”

Hesitantly Bellamy turned to his sister, who wasted no time in throwing her arms around him. “You’re a dumbass and I love you,” she murmured against his shoulder.

“Love you too, brat. Hey, we were just about to go get gelato — you coming?”

A scoff. “As if you even had to ask.”

Just slightly smug, Clarke hugged Octavia briefly before leaning up to kiss Bellamy’s cheek. “Told you so.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cry with me on [Tumblr](http://befreckledrebelking.tumblr.com)!


End file.
